


Monopoly

by scorchedtitan



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Pre-The Dying the of the Light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8507491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorchedtitan/pseuds/scorchedtitan
Summary: What's a game between friends?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for @Elluka on tumblr.

“Hey Swerve!” Bluestreak called over to his partner bartender, optics glowing and mouth grinning as he dug behind their mutual serving space. Pulling out a green, flat rectangular box marked ‘Property of Bumblebee’s Autobots (Hot Rod do not touch)’, he blew and brushed some dust off. “Where’d you get this relic?”

 The shorter mech glanced over from serving a pair of tall glasses of Stanixian Energon wine to Crosscut and Nautica. Before he could respond, the masculine patron replied. “I’m fairly certain Ratchet brought it on board. He said it had entertained your team on Eart. What I forget is why we had stopped playing. Swerve?”

Swerve groaned. “One, Crosscut, the planet’s called Earth. Two, last time we played, Pipes somehow stomped us, and caused such an argument Magnus nearly cited us for a riot. I put it away just in case.”

“Oh come on, Swerve,” Bluestreak replied. “Even Bumblebee managed to keep us in line when we played! Besides,” he gestured over to the corner of the room, where Megatron sat sipping a weak Polonium spritzer and going over class notes with Riptide, careful to avoid full stares despite his student’s nervous expression and twiddling thumbs, “we’ve got Cybertron’s greatest killer as our great captain, not to mention Ten, just in case anyone tries anything.”

Swerve marched over quite sternly and snatched the box out of the blue mech’s hand. In some vain attempt, he held it over his head, as though Bluestreak couldn’t take it. “No!”

Despite his effort, however, Nautica reached over the bar and took it out of his hands. She regarded it with a puzzled expression, tilting and peering at the box from various angles. “Speaking as a foreigner, what even is this anyways? All I’m getting is game. Or TV. Or maybe a book?” She paused for a second to gulp down her drink. Purple-painted lips pursed as she considered it. “On second thought, maybe I should stop guessing. Last time I found something confusing and rectangular, nothing went well. Even with Nightbeat there!”

Bluestreak snatched it back, distracting Swerve by tilting Nautica’s glass enough for the original Lost Light bartender to dive after it. “It’s a board game where you try and mimic real estate in order to buy and sell property. Someone lands on a square you own, they pay you one of the Earth currencies. Simple, but brutal. It’s an Earth-native, but Ratchet made one sized for us back when we were stuck there.” He was about to pull the board out of the box when Swerve tackled him.

“Not again, Bluestreak!” the minibot snarled despite himself. As they tussled, the box went flying, board and various pieces spilling out and at various customers. The box landed in Skids’ lap on the next table over. A few pieces plunked into Mainframe’s drink and food as fake money rained upon Rewind across from him. Somehow cards got far enough to get stuck in Riptide’s armor, the boat scratching at himself to get them out.

The board, however, wound up in the worst possible place. Cyclonus had been contemplatively regarding an unsettling-looking and likely rotten slice of cyber-grapefruit when abruptly a large, mint green piece of cardboard landed with enough force to squash his potential meal.

Slowly heads turned to the bar as Bluestreak and Swerve stood up, the former brushing himself off as the latter pouted. Realization soon settled in, however, as they stared back at their angry patrons, the only noise being the slightly inebriated Nautica’s giggle.

Megatron was the first to break the ice, in his usual blunt manner. “You’re going to fix this, Swerve.”

The red and white minibot resisted the urge to reach for his gun at the former tyrant and current captain. “Well, we’re almost out of the stock we got from the _Vis Vitalis_ …so, it’s kinda hard to decide.”

Beside him, however, Bluestreak’s grin grew wider and wider. “How about this, then: all of you play a game with us.” Clapping a hand over Swerve’s infamous mouth before he could protest, the ‘Entertainment Officer’ continued. “Winner of this game gets free drinks for a week…unless it’s me, in which case none of you guys get anything.”

Rewind cocked his head, coldness emanating even through his faceplate and visor combo. “And what if we refuse? What are you going to do for us then?”

“Can’t. Officer’s orders,” The sports car yanked his Rodimus Star out of subspace. Flipping it over casually, he showed the bar an inscription on the reverse side, reading ‘Official Promotion to Entertainment Officer – Rodimus of Nyon.’

The laser gazes of the bar swiveled back to Megatron. Even the likes of his detractors pleaded for some justice for their ruined food and drink. The silver, newly-appointed Autobot shrugged. “I’m interested, at the very least. I won’t veto Bluestreak’s orders. I don’t believe Earthlings ever had that much to offer, however.”

Bluestreak pumped his fist in the air. “Alright!” He vaulted over and snatched the board back from Cyclonus’ former food. Brushing off battery acid, he unfurled the board.

Swerve’s “Here we go again,” coincided with his partner’s “Time for Monopoly.” 

* * *

 

The players had been assembled after Swerve and Bluestreak reconfigured the bar to its one-table format. Megatron quickly decided upon house rules. The bar would remain open, with Swerve charging as per usual even for players. Onlookers could cheer players on, but were barred from providing any advice (violators of this rule would be ejected by Ten). It was Bluestreak’s recommendation to at least charge 75% off to promote the “event”, and Swerve managed to get Blaster to broadcast it ship-wide. A swift banner made by Crosscut reading “FIRST MONOPOLY GAME SINCE SECOND LAUNCH” hung over the door…accompanied by a short little doodle by Riptide of a rampaging fiery Cyclonus with exaggerated cartoony teeth saying “PLAY TO THE DEATH” lazily taped on.

Bluestreak clapped his hands as he surveyed the bar. He and Mainframe stood before the table, surrounded by players. Megatron still nursed his drink, but at the bar with Swerve now, watching warily. “Alright then. Mainframe, I’ll start. As I alluded to before, in Monopoly, you roll a pair of dice to move your figurine around the board. You collect Earth money, which we’ll call Shanix for the sake of simplicity, in order to buy little squares on the board. Once in a while a square will net you a card to perform some action. If someone lands on your square, they owe you money. 

Mainframe took over from that point, converting into his database mode. Ignoring a grumble from Swerve in the back about having a computer cluttering up his bar, he went on. “I am playing the bank! Sometimes you’ll have to pay me or collect Shanix from me. I can also offer homes, little figurines that make people pay more when they land on your square. Enough homes, I think four, nets you a hotel. Any questions?”

Riptide raised his hand. “Yeah, I kinda sorta don’t remember anything after the word start?”

“You didn’t pay attention that entire time?” snarled Cyclonus, half-threatening, half-disbelieving.

“I paid attention until start!”

“Enough!” Megatron interrupted, ending the argument before it could truly start. “Riptide, just…ask Nautica or Crosscut to explain as you go along.”

“Yeah!” Nautica cheered as she clapped Riptide on the back. “I mean, I can figure out quantum physics, how hard can a simple board game be, really?”

Swerve guffawed until some lubricant leaked from under his visor, much to the mild concern of everyone. Wheezing as he grabbed the table for support, with a hearty pat on the back by Megatron, he managed to get out, “Tell that to Perceptor. Long story short, I swept him once, and he’s been sour since.”

“Here, grab pieces,” Skids held out a hand containing small icons. One by one, the other players took pieces. Bluestreak grabbed an Earth car, Cyclonus an approximation of Broadside’s alt mode, and so on, eventually leaving Skids with a round, cylindrical piece. “Aw, come on guys, the thimble? Really?”

“Thimble?” Nautica asked, prodding at it with her own piece, a small lookalike of Ravage. “Whazzat?”

“It’s a thing humans use when suing!” Rewind replied. “They wear it on their thumbs so as not to injure themselves.”

“Sewing, Rewind. Also, I call going first!” Bluestreak replied absentmindedly, rushing to roll the dice. One laded with three dots facing up, the other two. Moving his car, he pouted. “The railroad? No buy, Mainframe.”

Riptide had once more dropped his attention; this time in favor of pretending he was wearing his shoe icon. However, he finally snapped up. “Oh, we’re going? Me next!” he called, grabbing the dice, amidst a weak protest from Rewind about specified orders. He too rolled a five total. “This says 200 shanix. I think I’ll buy it!" 

Bluestreak smirked as he passed Riptide’s money over to Mainframe. “Who wants to get suckered next?”

* * *

 

“Man, I quit,” Riptide threw down his last three twenties just as he was almost to the “Collect 200”. He’d consistently gotten awful rolls, between paying $50 to each player on a chance card, and landing on more than a couple owned squares. His only property was the railroad and Connecticut Avenue.

More than a few turns in, it was anybody else’s game. Cyclonus had the most money, but Nautica had the most properties. Skids had a rough start, but his outlier powers were starting to kick in the more he watched Cyclonus. Bluestreak, Crosscut, and Rewind were doing fine. In the background, Ravage had joined Megatron, giving sarcastic commentary and all but purring in the next seat as the former tyrant scratched his head. Jackpot had also wandered in, though he was more interested in drunkenly hitting on Mainframe.

“Are you sure, Riptide?” Mainframe asked, helpless to stop Jackpot from lazily kissing his side from his computer alternate mode. “You’re just about to get 200 shanix again.” He finally converted into his robot mode to shove his boyfriend off, but not before yelping as the yellow-and-black mech aimed a slap to his aftplate.

Riptide nodded. “You guys have me beat.”

It was at this Megatron rose, much to the sadness of his feline companion, placing a hand over his chest. Somewhere in the background, Crosscut murmured about how dramatic the ship’s newer captain was. “Now wait a second, Riptide. How about I take over for you? I’m sure I could make something of your meager offerings. Besides, I’ve had enough worthless drink for one day. Time to make something of myself among this crew.”

Bluestreak scoffed in disbelief, stealing a shot of engex from Swerve and downing it quickly. “To be fair, Megatron, you’ve got something of yourself among the crew. But anyways, it ain’t exactly right for you to just barge in? You’ll be starting off on a pre-determined foot than the rest of us.” He took the opportunity for his turn and rolled the dice, getting an 11 and landing his small car figurine on the so far free Oriental Avenue…when he already owned Vermont Avenue. He hummed as he collected his own 200 shanix. “Then again, I’ll cut you a deal. Enter the game, sell me Connecticut, and I’ll give you this two hundred, along with the fact you’re about to get another set.”

Amidst protests from the slightly buzzed Rewind, the moderately drunken Skids, and the extremely blitzed Nautica in regards to Bluestreak’s potential monopoly, Megatron stroked his chin. He looked down at Ravage, who gave his best approximation of a shrug. “I’d go for it,” the spy spoke. “Nothing else to lose, and he’s liable to get it either way.”

At this, Megatron held up his hand, silencing Rewind, Skids, and Nautica, and eliciting another groan from Crosscut. “Bluestreak caused this game to happen, and so we play by his rules. Captain’s orders. Riptide, if you please?” Megatron took his money, passed the card over to Bluestreak, and sat down as Riptide got up. The aquatic dragged Jackpot off Mainframe and together they set off for another deck, amidst the blue and red Autobot’s thankfulness. “Now then,” Megatron said. “Where were we?”

Cyclonus, who had watched the whole ordeal silently without objection, finally spoke. “I believe it was my turn.” He took the dice from off the board and rolled. A snake eyes came up, and he moved his piece from Baltic Avenue to Reading Railroad. His eyes flickered up, his sharp red meeting Megatron’s. A pregnant pause held in the air. Finally, he rasped, a throaty grumble leaking from his audio transmitters. “That should be 25 shanix.” Without another word he slid the false money to his captain, who accepted it with a respectful smile. “What luck.”

Swerve hooted, breaking up the moment with the loud click of a shot from his handheld camera. Everyone whipped their heads at the diminutive bartender, surprised by the outburst. “Now the real rivalry begins!” he cried excitedly.

Cyclonus and Megatron both smiled grimly at this, glancing back towards each other. The latter was the one to speak, however.

“So it would appear.”

* * *

 

“You can’t do that, you spawn of a glitch!” Rewind screeched, grabbing Nautica’s wrench in an attempt to hit Cyclonus with it. A simple grab of his arm by Chromedome was enough to stop him, but the archivist still squirmed in his Conjunx Endura’s grip. 

The game had taken some interesting turns over the course of the next two hours. Bluestreak was profiting enough from his original monopoly to have built a hotel, and had bought one of the dark blue, and pink spaces each. Skids owned the other of the former, and had captured the red monopoly. Cyclonus led with the green and brown spaces (the latter with a few houses) captured, in part due to buying out Crosscut, forcing the playwright out of the game. However, Megatron wasn’t far behind, with three of the railroads, both utilities, and the orange monopoly. Rewind had only succeeded in owning two of the yellow spaces and the last railroad, with minimal money left to call his own. Nautica, meanwhile, had reached her alcohol tolerance and passed out, snoozing gently in her chair. Mainframe had politely collected her own properties and money and put them back up for free.

While most of the players were caught in their game, the crowd had spiraled from just Jackpot and Ravage to a full cast of characters. Chromedome watched with muted interest as his Conjunx all but fought for scraps, whilst Tailgate (and formerly Whirl, before he’d drunkenly tried to steal from Megatron and give to Cyclonus like some sort of Cybertronian Robin Hood) shouted for Cyclonus’ victory. Brainstorm debated the odds with a slightly embittered Perceptor, the Wrecker clearly annoyed he hadn’t been there to secure a spot in the game. Hoist was kind enough to pull up a chair and sit with Nautica and make sure she didn’t somehow die of drinking, but he too mainly kept his eyes on the centerpiece.

As it stood, Cyclonus had happened onto the last yellow space, Ventnor Avenue, and politely offered to buy it from the bank. Rewind’s inebriation and anger hit a peak, and he was ranting.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Swerve jerked his thumb back, pointing out of his bar. “Rewind! As they say on Earth, you! Are! Outta here!”

Chromedome scooped the drunk minibot up, wincing at an expected dent or two, but the fight seeped from the smaller mech in his Conjunx’s embrace, and he soon became affectionate, nuzzling up at the mnemosurgeon’s chest. Beneath his faceplate, Chromedome smiled patiently at his shipmates and departed the bar, leaving Skids, Bluestreak, Cyclonus, and Megatron.

“Another kill for Cyclonus!” Tailgate shouted in the background, Brainstorm raising his glass and yelling as well, with Perceptor and the now-spectating Crosscut simply lifting their own. The purple mech had become the crowd’s current favorite.

“Well, guess it’s back to me,” Mainframe said, reaching for Rewind’s money and cards, but Skids stopped him with a simple pat on the arm.

The theoretician smiled a proud smile, a sad smile. “Sorry, I’ve gotta rest. I’ve got a session with Rung tomorrow first thing in the morning.” He nodded at Hoist as he stood up, gingerly lifting Nautica so as not to wake her. “I’ll get her to bed, Hoist. No worries.”

Megatron grunted. “Well then, how about that. No need for the bank. Bluestreak, take Skids’ cards, I’ll take Rewind’s railroad, and Cyclonus can take his yellow cards. Effectively three monopolies each.”

Cyclonus and Bluestreak nodded, and the mood shifted as even an eager smile set itself on the former’s face. The mood shifted all but visibly, a competitive, less friendly spirit arising.

As such, the game continued to dance, all three players out for blood. Megatron built his empire, raising his own houses to absorb the others’ money, something Bluestreak fell an unfortunate victim to. In response, the entertainment officer bought out Virginia Avenue, halting any hopes for Cyclonus to monopolize it. The purple mech was not to be deterred, however, and snagged Free Parking, securing him some 115 shanix. However, a bad stroke of luck hit him the next turn, as he landed on Water Works, sending 110 shanix of what he’d secured to Megatron, who promptly bought a hotel on New York Avenue. An unlucky roll from Bluestreak landed him on it, putting a solid dent in his funds.

Cyclonus and Megatron glanced at each other, and something clicked at Bluestreak’s bad luck. Cyclonus gazed between his cards and cash and hummed. He rolled, and landed on Short Line. He paused before passing Megatron his earnings. “Tailgate,” he said calmly. “Would you like to have a movie night in our room tomorrow?”

The minibot perked up, hopping off his seat and all but slamming into Cyclonus’ side. “Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!”

Cyclonus stood and slid his entire fortune over to Megatron, to the gasps of the crowd. “Well then,” the ancient mech spoke slowly. “We must prepare.” As Tailgate transformed and raced down the hall, Cyclonus took a brief moment to lean close enough to whisper to Megatron. “Win for the patrons, and I shall forgive you for hurting him that night.” At that, he turned.

Megatron shuffled his new cards into his hand and smirked softly. “He and I remember that night very differently.” He gazed down his nose at Bluestreak, who was now visibly terrified. ‘Now then, Officer,’ the former tyrant, former leader of the Decepticons, known once and forever by titles such as the “Slagmaker” and the ‘Unholy One’ spoke in a voice all too reminiscent of how he might speak to a soldier such as Starscream before humiliating them. “Let’s see how well you can match up.”

In the end, Bluestreak battled valiantly, but it was simply not enough for his luck to win out over Megatron’s sheer control of the board, and the Co-Captain of the Lost Light took the opportunity of free drinks for a week to gain favor among his crew by granting the winnings to the ship members instead. Rather, Megatron paid his tab for a Polonium Spritzer as he and Ravage watched their fellows drink and be merry, content with the simple fact of a hard-earned, well-fought victory.


End file.
